Ty Chronicles
by S. L. Rode
Summary: Explores Ty's former relationships prior to his arrival at Heartland (and a couple during his time away from Amy between Seasons 1-2 and 3-4, maybe 7-8). Told in first person from Ty's POV.
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** Here we go. A little bit ago after I posted a one-shot on my tumblr someone mentioned how it would be interesting to explore Ty's past relationships before Heartland. I agreed. Now, my mind is very Amy-oriented, meaning I can get inside her head much easier than I can Ty's. However, I decided this was too good of an idea to pass up. So begins Ty Chronicles. What this is going to be is a collection of one-shots (maybe some short stories 1-3 chapters, we'll see how things go) of Ty's experiences with women, girlfriends, etc, dating from before his time in juvie until he gets sent to Heartland (and one or two during that time). _

_I'm going to place a tentative **PG-13** rating on the Chronicles as a whole, because there are a few things I want to cover that might border… explicit, but if it goes beyond PG-13, I'll make sure to properly trigger that specific story. _

_I'm going to try try to keep them in chronological order (that's what Chronicles are supposed to be) but my mind doesn't necessarily like to work that way, so I'll make sure to inform you of the order of things each time something new is posted. Mk? _

_So, for right now, this is just a prologue talking about Ty's past and a lead in to the first story. So… I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave feedback, or even ideas if you have them since I don't have everything completely hashed out. It's just going to come as it comes. Also note that I am going to try and keep details as accurate as possible. I've gone back and watched specific episodes to have notes on Lily and Wade and Ty's backstory, but bear in mind that I'm only human and may not get everything correct all of the time. This is fanfiction after all. Enjoy.  
_

* * *

Skipping school was a daily habit by the time I began high school. I was more careful in middle school, coming in with notes for early release that my mom signed in her drunken stupors, having no idea what they were for but yelling at me none the less for bothering her with such things. In high school I couldn't give two shits about walking out of the building in the middle of the day. I didn't care who saw me and only dared them to try and stop me. I thought my precious time was being wasted in that hell hole, with people I didn't care to socialize with. I simply couldn't be bothered. I was a pretty smart cookie, though. And while I neglected to do homework (most of the time never knowing I even had any or what the assignment was), did well on my exams. The ones I showed up for, anyway.

My days were better spent smoking cigarettes, occasionally a few joints, and sipping on beers with the few cool friends I tolerated, at the top of the water tower that overlooked the town. You could see clear to the city facing west and the Rocky Mountains on the east side. Some days we'd hop the bus to that urban jungle and sneak into movies or pilfer snacks from local convenience stores. It was all in good fun. It wasn't like we hurt anyone. We were just a bunch of rowdy kids looking for some excitement and getting high on the dangers of getting caught. Naturally, we tried to avoid that at all cost, but occasionally we'd get outsmarted by the cops that would corner us, stuff us in the back of their cars and make us sit at the local station until our parents came to get us.

Too many times I was left to be taken home by an officer when my mom or her new husband, Wade, would refuse to come get me. Of course when I got home, I was reprimanded. And I don't mean being grounded and having privileges revoked and being sent to bed to think about the trouble I caused and burdened with the guilt of being a disappointment. I mean it in the medieval sense. What happened to people in those times who stole? They lost fingers, hands, sometimes ears, and while I still have all of my body parts, many of them are scarred from the few times I was beaten with the old leather belt Wade kept just for the purpose. Sometimes he didn't even have a reason to use it, but he did anyway. Sometimes he didn't even use it and went at me with his bare hands. He used those most on my mom, though. That was the worst punishment that poor excuse for a human being ever gave me. Listening to her cries and pleas for him to stop was the worst form of torture.

No, I take that back.

The worst form of torture was watching how five minutes later she would be apologizing to _him_ for making him angry, saying she was sorry she couldn't be better, how much she loved him and appreciated all he did for us. She worshipped him. There was one time I nearly grew sick at the sight of her falling to her knees to beg his forgiveness for something that wasn't even her fault. She literally dropped to the ground and cried at Wade's feet when he threatened to leave and take all of the money with him. It wasn't even his money. Some of it was, what he made from gambling at the track, but most of it was my mom's. Money she earned waitressing and cleaning the house of an elderly neighbor down the street.

Some of it she saved. For me. I liked animals and once a month she'd take me to the zoo in the city. Just the two of us. Those were my favorite memories. For a few hours it really felt like we were a true family. But my mom couldn't ever do the single parent thing. After my Dad left, she fell apart. I tried to be there for her, but I just wasn't enough. She needed a man to care for her, and Wade had been too much of a charmer to pass up. Don't ask me what she saw in him, because I'll never know, but she let him in our life so completely he invaded it and renamed it in the name of Wade.

Anyway, those days we spent in the zoo were some of the best. Those were the days my mom remained sober and we could enjoy the day together. I remember laughing at the monkeys, being awed by the lions and tigers, and avoiding the reptile house entirely because Mom was terrified of snakes. Too bad only the legless kind. She once told me I could go in alone and she'd wait right outside for me, but I never did. Those days were our days and I didn't want to spend a single moment of them apart because I knew that when we got home that night until our next visit, she'd be Wade's.

Those days at the zoo were the only days my mother took an interest in my life. She'd ask about school, my friends, if I had any girlfriends. I guess I probably should have known better than to think she'd keep up on that stuff, but I was just so excited that she was finally paying attention to me and taking an interest that I'd tell her some things – the good things. Of course, then we'd get home and things would go back to normal. She'd pour herself a drink, hand Wade a cold beer, and I went back to being an occasional third occupant of our shitty apartment. When he was around it was almost like I was invisible, or a nuisance. She'd send me away more often than not, telling me to go do my homework or go outside. So I did, but there wasn't much to do, so that's how I started getting into the trouble I did.

I fell into the wrong crowd. Made friends old enough to buy booze and cigarettes and dated girls old enough to probably make it illegal. They thought I was cute, what can I say. And were more than happy to teach me a thing or two about women and how they liked it. They molded me, taught me about the female body in a very hands-on way. I learned more from them than I did in any health class. But it was Wade who taught me how to treat a woman. I saw how he abused my mom, beat her down emotionally, took her for everything she had and still left her begging for more because she was so dependent on him to keep her together. Whatever he did, I learned to do the opposite. Any girl that came into my life was treated with respect and cared for to the best of my ability. Some took advantage of it, but others appreciated it, even clung to me as if I were a life boat and for one girl – I was.

* * *

_**A/N:** The Next Step is still in progress, and there are still 2-4 more chapters to come, but I have about 4 different fanfiction stories going on right now on my tumblr that I want to share over here. They will make a gradual transition._


	2. A Walk to Remember (Pt 1)

**Summary:** Meghan Donovan is a girl no one pays attention to until the day Ty Borden discovers something about her that so closely relates to his own life he finds himself becoming attached to her. But the closer he gets, the worse things become. And no one makes it through unscathed. _The first installment of the Ty Chronicles saga. Set pre-Heartland/pre-juvie/pre-group home. Told in first-person through Ty's point of view._  
**Rating:** PG-13 for swearing and domestic violence.  
**Author's Notes:** I was going to make this a one shot but decided to break it up into a few parts so you weren't waiting forever for something new to read. 

* * *

Her name was Meghan Donovan. She was a pretty girl, shoulder-length brown hair and green eyes so light they looked almost grey some days. She wasn't like a lot of other girls in my high school who dressed to the nines and acted out for the attention of a guy. She was quiet, reserved, and essentially invisible. Even to me for a long time.

Now, I know what you're thinking. That this is going to be a romantic love story where the bad boy falls for the good girl who changes him for the better. Well, maybe the end of that is partly true at a stretch, but this isn't a Nicholas Sparks novel. Besides, that story is one you already know and there is no sense in retelling it. This one is a story of unbridled courage from a soft spoken young girl who's death (yes, she dies; there are no surprise endings here) put my life into a startling perspective.

As I previously stated, I wasn't aware of her at first. It was one of those instances where you are so used to seeing something, or in this case someone, every day that you never acknowledge they were ever there until the day they're not. Suddenly you're thrown because something is missing. It's like the old textile mill that used to sit back behind the tracks I'd walk along as a short cut home. I would pass it day after day with an occasional passing glance, not putting much thought in it. Then for a few weeks I took a different route when I got my first under-the-table job. During those weeks the mill had been gutted and razed. It wasn't until I got myself fired and returned to that old path did I realize the mill existed - too late. The remaining lot was barren, nothing but a graffitied slab of cement foundation left behind. The open space made the path look foreign.

The day Meghan Donovan didn't cross my path enroute to her social sciences class as I bypassed the security guard stationed at the rear entrance of the school by cutting through wood shop to sneak in my daily smoke break, was the day I first noticed her. I never realized until that moment how routine it was to skirt around her and her fuchsia Jansport bag while avoiding the eyes of the guard to slip into the classroom. I'd never taken a shop class in my life, but this guard must have thought I was in line to be a carpenter.

I remember hesitating in the hallway in front of the door, trying to figure out why my typical skip-out felt wrong that day. The feeling was strange to me but I shook it off as nicotine withdrawal. Once I got outside with a fresh cigarette things would he right as rain. They were. Until the following day.

I ran into Meghan coming out of the principal's office. It seemed customary for them to pull me in every few weeks for a lecture about the importance of my education and how skipping my classes would result in failure of my courses, perhaps high school as a whole. They didn't know I didn't even plan on hanging on that long to find out. For their benefit, I learned to perfect my solemn "so sorry" face, even more so the specific combination of words to fabricate an apologetic explanation for my self-deprecating behavior and how I'd try to do better. I'd get a hard calculating stare for a few long seconds before being sent off with yet another warning. They quickly figured out that suspensions weren't punishments that worked for someone like me as it gave me an excuse not to be in school. Anyway, I digress. The point is, it was after one of those heart to hearts with Vice Principal Bash that I crossed paths with Meghan on her way into the office.

"Don't worry, I softened him up for you." I murmured into her ear as I held open the door for her to enter. She smiled softly in acknowledgment. She had a pretty smile. It was a shy smile befitting to the girl. I had never seen her smile before. All those times we passed in the hall and I don't think I ever even saw all of her face as her head had always been bowed, keeping her in her own little world.

I paused when the secretary asked her to have a seat. She sat like a perfect lady, feet on the floor, legs pressed together with her hands folded in her lap and her back as straight as the chair without leaning against it. Her head was bowed toward her hands that were the only giveaway to her unease. She was rubbing her fingers and picking at her chipping green nail polish.

"First time?" I asked kindly, stepping back into the office to sit in the empty seat next to her, hoping to help ease her fears a bit.  
She nodded but didn't look at me.  
I slouched back in the chair, legs spread eagle out in front of me. "It's not so bad. They're always lenient on first-timers. It's the repeat offenders they go hard on. But after a while you figure out the sweet spot."

The secretary glanced up from her computer to give me an annoyed look. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Mr. Borden?"  
I fixed her with my wide, charming smile. "No, ma'am. This is my free period."  
"Mmhmm, seems you have a semester of those."  
"A whole year, more like," I quipped.  
She shot me a look of disapproval over the top of her classes - obviously I was lying - but said no more. There really wasn't much they could do to me anymore to be a better student. All the pep talks in the world wouldn't sway me if I didn't want to be swayed.

I returned my attention to my companion. "So, what'd you do?"  
She was silent for a long time. Like, a long time. I wasn't sure if she was going to answer, or if she even wanted to. Or if she just didn't want me bothering her as I was. We didn't know each other, after all. At that time I didn't even know her name.  
"Too many unexcused absences," she finally answered in that soft voice of hers. I wasn't sure she was capable of speaking any louder.  
"Oh." I blew raspberries. "That's nothing. Last year I didn't show up for an entire month and didn't get much more than a shake of the head. How many days did you miss? Three? Four?" The limit was three before grades started being altered, but usually with solid excuses it was easy enough to slip by that rule.  
"Twelve."  
Whoa. That was a lot for your average student and I wondered how I never noticed them except for the one yesterday. "Still doesn't beat my record." No one probably ever would.  
"I have about forty latenesses, too," she admitted.  
That surprised me and I stumbled over a thought for a moment. "If your grades are good they really won't do much. That's all they care about." That was my saving grace. I knew I was a smart kid and I could learn the material. I just had no patience to sit in a classroom for seven hours out of my day. Which is what frustrated the hell out of my teachers.  
Meghan shook her head. "I'm too far behind. They want to hold me back."  
I cringed. "That's rough. What about your folks?"

I had the feeling before she even answered that her situation wasn't very different from mine with parents who didn't care what their child did with her life and would rather her be out making money to help with the bills instead of wasting it in school. But it was the law all kids had to remain in school until they could legally drop out at sixteen. I still had several months to go and was counting down the days.

Meghan shrugged and I knew at that moment she didn't want to talk any more on the subject. I also knew at that moment that my suspicions were most likely correct. Sometimes silence carried the loudest voice.


	3. A Walk to Remember (Pt 2)

Things were back to normal the next day between fifth and sixth period. Well, almost. My path to woodshop once again crossed with Meghan's, except this time we engaged.

"Hey, the girl from the office." I tried to act casual, pretend our meeting was coincidental rather than routine.  
She stared at me in a way that made me oddly self-conscious. A strange feeling for me who aired unnecessary confidence.  
"Are you seriously going to act like we haven't passed by each other every day this whole year?"  
A slow smile spread across my lips. "I honestly didn't think you noticed."  
"I didn't think you cared," she countered. So it seemed we both were much more aware of the other than we let on. We were more than just two ships passing in the night, looking but not actually seeing.  
"I didn't…" I admitted, "Until the other day when I noticed something off about my day."  
"That was the first time you noticed I wasn't in school?"  
She had a point. From what she told me the day before I should have realized eleven times ago.  
I shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a rather self-absorbed person." It was true. When it came to school the most I cared about was how long until it was over or what I could do to make the day more interesting for myself.  
"So what made this time different?"  
Another rightful question. Why the other day of all days did I take the time to notice the girl I never noticed before wasn't crossing my path. It was an answer I did not have. One I never did. At least not one I found believable. "I don't know."

We lapsed into a silence, chatter fading into the background around us as fellow students skirted around us to scurry to class before the late bell chimed.

"So how did that meeting with Bash turn out? Did he throw the book at you?" I'd been wondering about it since leaving the office. Part of me wanted to linger, knowing I'd have been able to conjure up some kind of excuse to keep the secretary off my back, but I also hadn't wanted Meghan to feel like I was stalking her or something. So I hiked the long way back to my class and decided to wait and take advantage of our common travel route.

"Well, if I want to make it to graduation on time I need to pass summer school," she sighed, "If I can't make it through the regular school year I have no idea how I'm going to get through that."  
"I mean, did he actually throw the book at you?"  
Her brows knit in a questioning frown. "What?"  
"He actually threw a book at me once," I clarified, "He has a copy of 'Common Sense' in his desk drawer. I think he hoped the irony of getting hit in the head with it would knock some into me." That was no tall tale, either. I even threatened to sue him for assault. We both knew I wouldn't, but it was fun to get a rise out of him anyway.  
Meghan's lips pressed together in a small smile. "I assume it didn't," she guessed.  
I shook my head. "Not at all."  
"Didn't think so."

My eyes widened and jaw slackened as I pretended to be affronted. "My God who knew you could be so cruel. I'm regretting this conversation. You're meaner than I imagined you to be." I was kidding of course, the smile on my lips as I spoke gave that away.  
"I'm just going by what I hear, which isn't a lot of good things. Personally, I think you're smarter than you let people believe."  
What she said surprised me for real that time because it felt almost too personal for someone I barely knew to comment on. "What makes you say that?"  
I could see my follow-up suddenly made her regret saying what she had and a look of relief softened her features for an instant when the late bell rang. It was a fleeting moment - until she realized she was the one going to be late.  
"I gotta go." And she was gone, leaving me to turn and watch her slip into her classroom as the door swung shut to lock out any tardies. It was the point of no return once that door closed. Either you had a late pass or your ass was sent packing to the principal's office to get one, which usually resulted in an interrogation as to why you were late and sometimes a write-up if the excuse wasn't valid. Ridiculous, right? Now you have some idea why I thought school was such a joke. It was treated way too seriously.

* * *

It was my friend Seth's birthday that day. So instead of coming back after my daily cigarette break, I skipped out altogether to meet him and some other delinquent friends of mine atop the water tower - our usual hang out spot. It wasn't the easiest vertical climb to make holding a paper bag of booze and Jason got the brunt of our jeers when he managed to drop a perfectly good bottle of Jim Beam that he'd swiped from his grandfather's reserves. But even with a bottle down, there was plenty for all of us to get good and trashed.

We sat with our legs hanging over the edge, leaning on the railing and staring out toward the mountains of glass and steel that made up the inner city, passing various bottles around to each other. A lot of times when we gathered there we shot the bull, talked trash, voiced our pipe dreams, created wild futuristic fantasies of our lives then laughed at how much none of that was going to happen while toking on a joint and splitting a handle. That day was no different, except all of those topics centered around our man of the hour. We laughed until Jason almost slipped off the catwalk then toned it down. It was too early for anyone to go tumbling down before they could blame it on the booze.

Residual chuckles rumbled through us as we swigged whiskey and gazed out toward the metropolis, lost in our own thoughts and still reeling from our stories.  
"Hey, Ty, what was with you and that Donovan girl today?" Tommy asked, bringing up a startling change of subject that suddenly had everyone turning to look at me for the dirty details. That's usually how our conversations turned when girls were brought up.  
I shrugged dismissively. "Nothing. I just ran into her in Bash's office and wanted to see what her sentence was. What do you know of her?"  
"We had freshman math together. Her family is bad news. Or what's left of it, anyway."  
"Is she the one who's father murdered her mother than drove around with her in the trunk of his car for a month?" Jason asked, causing everyone to stare at him with wary and disgusted expressions.  
"No," Tommy answered. "That's some messed up shit. Who told you that?"  
"I don't know, I saw it on the news somewhere."  
"That was one of those cop dramas, you dumbass. It wasn't real." Seth rolled his eyes.  
Jason defended himself. "Those stories are based on true events, you know. It happened somewhere."  
"Oh my- they're fictionalized for television." Seth argued.  
That was when I decided to redirect that train wreck of a debate, not wanting Jason to get himself pushed off the tower for being an imbecile. "What about her family, then? Can't be much worse than any of ours." We all came from similar low-income backgrounds - except for Jason who was kind of our wild card. He came from a decent family, working parents, and wealthy grandparents. He was the one with access to the good booze and high class transportation for when the SkyTrain just didn't get where we needed to go.

"Word on the street is her dad used to be a lawyer that embezzled a lot of money from his clients, spent a bout in the slammer, and lost his license. By the time he got out his wife took the kids and shacked up with some other guy." Tommy shook his head, draping his arms over the steel bar in front of him. "Once that shit hits the fan there is no coming back from it."

A chill shivered down my spine at the familiarity of the story. It was like Tommy just narrated a slightly askew version of my life. It was unsettling. The only difference was my own father hadn't been successful in any job he tried to maintain and his embezzling was in the form of card counting.

"I'm not seeing the 'bad news' part. We've all got at least one asshole for a parent." In my eyes that only gave us something in common.

"Not all of us," Jason piped up, who actually got along with his folks and rebelled simply because he got into a crowd of friends who did the same.

"You're like the black sheep of this friendship circle, Jase, nothing we say applies to you," Seth snatched the whiskey from him.

"Well, it's just rumors." From the way he hesitated to answer, I could tell Tommy didn't want to say something that could tick me off. I think that was why he asked about Meghan and me, wanting to know how close our budding (I liked to think so, at least) friendship was before he went and insulted it. Still, we were all usually really straight up. We dealt with too much bullshit and lies in our lives to do it to one another.

"Come on, man. Did she sleep around the school or something? Cause half the girls in our grade have." And it was usually with Seth, but that was old news. I wasn't looking to get with her, if that's what they were implying.

Tommy glanced at Seth, who shrugged. They made me wonder if it was a more widespread rumor than I thought and I was the only one who hadn't caught wind of it. Or, as I jokingly told Meghan earlier, was too self-absorbed to pay any attention.  
"It's not her. But the guy her mom is with is said to be some kind of pimp on the Eastside."  
"So… you think she's working for him?" Truthfully, I didn't care all that much what her mom's boyfriend did for a living. I grew up with two drunks for male parents that sucked my mother right down with them. Everyone had their family troubles, some were just worse than others.  
"I don't know," Tommy raised his arms defensively. "Like I said, it's just a rumor, but my sister's friend supposedly had a friend that did and that's kind of how I found out about it. But you know how those grapevine stories go - by the time they get to you they can get all kinds of warped. I'm just saying I'd be careful before inviting yourself over or anything."  
"I appreciate the concern, but I don't think things are going to get that serious. We were just talking." I shrugged, so naive. I had been so wrong and it didn't take more than a couple of weeks for me to realize it.


	4. A Walk to Remember (Pt 3)

It started out slow, as most things do. Those brushes in the hall became more than a passing glance. They lingered to become conversations - sort of. After our official meeting in the principal's office, we ran out of things to talk about rather quickly. For a while we were confined to the generic "hey, how are you" and weather. It was hot for that time of year. For being the smooth talker I liked to think I was, I couldn't find one damn thing to say to Meghan. At least nothing that was appropriate. What Tommy said of her family stuck with me and was always lingering there in the back of my mind any time I saw her, but I didn't dare try to cross that line without knowing what I was getting into. I wanted to learn more about her, but I wanted her to offer it to me. Any other girl would have gotten the same bold, sexist comments about various parts of their physique, but I thought better of Meghan than that. She didn't act like those other girls that asked for it, then pretended to be offended when they got it. She dressed modestly, conservatively, almost disappearing in the crowded hallways as she wanted. But she couldn't hide from me. Not that she tried anymore. I came to notice the way she would linger at the intersection where we usually passed, but there was one day when I had been later than usual that I saw her actually stopped and looking around. It made me smile to see her standing there so expectantly, thinking she would just shrug my lack of appearance off then head to class and we'd pick up tomorrow. But she began to wait, anticipating our meetings. So I waited too.

It was one hot and humid afternoon in late May that I saw as the turning point of our relationship. It was the day I realized we were more alike than I thought.

The school building was stifling from broken air conditioning. It had been broken for going on three days at that point. It was too hot to think about learning, too hot to function, too hot to breathe. Definitely too hot to be wearing long sleeves, but that was what Meghan donned as she came down the hall. Her brow was damp with sweat, face red from the heat and yet her hair, too, was still down around her shoulders instead of pulled back away from her face.

"My God, how are you still alive right now?" I asked when she stopped in front of me. I felt suffocated just looking at her. That couldn't be comfortable.

For a moment I caught a glimpse of something strange in her eyes. It looked almost like fear, but I couldn't be certain. Then she looked down at herself and realized I was talking about her attire. "Oh, laundry day," she lied easily, unknown to me at the time, though I still grew suspicious of her explanation.

I eyed the shirt. "Seriously? This is all you had left?" I know all about laundry day. I learned to do my own after my mom got too messed up to do anything but sleep and cry, sometimes both at the same time. If she did any kind of house work it was because Wade told her too, or more like threatened her. She washed his clothes, but didn't touch mine. Most of the time she didn't even leave any detergent and I used dish soap, or lugged my stuff to Jason's if it wasn't too much and his parents weren't home. They weren't quite aware of the full situation I was in at home, except that Wade was a deadbeat step-father. I didn't bother to elaborate the abusive details for my mother's sake. She made me promise not to go telling people about my home life because they would take me away. As much as I hated Wade and what he turned my mother into, I didn't want to be taken from her. I couldn't leave her and I promised I wouldn't. She needed me.

Mistakenly, I reached out to feel the material, just to get a sense of the masochism at play here. Meghan jerked back so fast I froze with my hand still extended toward her, blinking at her a second until I could register what just happened.

"Sorry," was my automatic response as my brow creased at a thought.

"No, I-I'm sorry. You just startled me," she tried to explain, her face becoming redder with embarrassment and shame. But she didn't need to be sorry, she was merely acting on instinct, survival instinct. I knew why. Because she reacted the same way my mother did any time Wade reached for her. The same way even I sometimes did when one of my friends would move to slap me on the back.

I lowered my hand. Meghan was being physically abused. Her flinching was just what put the rest of it into perspective. Her concealing attire made it even more apparent. I'd bet staying in school for an entire year without skipping that there were bruises beneath those clothes, and probably under her hair as well.

"Laundry day, huh?" My tone indicated I no longer believed that story. I knew more about what she was hiding than she realized and wanted to say as much but I didn't want to scare her any more than she already was by attacking her with questions and demanding answers, because I would.

Meghan's eyes immediately left mine and I kept my mouth shut. She no longer felt comfortable in my presence. I stumbled upon too much she wasn't ready for me to know without even doing much of anything. She wasn't stupid and judging from what she said a few weeks back, didn't think I was either. She knew I was going to be able to put two and two together.

"I gotta get to class." She brushed by me quickly without another glance. I let her go, let her breathe. Let me breathe.

I steeled myself to softer emotions over time, learning very early that they provided weakness that predators preyed on. Anger was my emotion of choice. It was quick to find and easy to fuel and the results were immediate. It was why I usually acted without thinking - survival instincts. I could feel my core began to constrict as the anger built from the knowledge of this quiet, gentle girl was being hurt. I had the feeling I already knew by whom.

* * *

I went home that afternoon with my discovery weighing heavily on my mind. The more I pondered it, the worse my anger became. I went back and forth between blaming people I didn't know involved in a situation I could relate to, but truthfully didn't know about. In my mind, there was no denying Meghan's abuse, but I didn't know the whole story. To me, that was just minor details that I could honestly care less about, but I was very aware what prying into those truths could do to her. It would make them real. They _were_ real, but sometimes it was hiding it from the world that gave us the relief we sought to live a normal life outside of the darkness we went home to every night. I didn't want to take that from her. Not after I finally got her to smile at me.

I walked into my own darkness as I entered the apartment we could just barely afford. I could no longer keep track of the times we were threatened with eviction for being late with rent. We moved three times within the last year, each place worse than the last. The police were in our building at least twice a week for one reason or another - domestic disturbance being the biggest nuisance of the block. They were at our door, too, on occasion when things would get out of hand between my mom and Wade. Sometimes it was me who called them, but I usually used our upstairs neighbor as my scapegoat.

That day I walked in while they were in the middle of yet another heated argument. I wasn't sure what it was about, or what started it, but I could tell it was fueled by alcohol. Empty and half-empty bottles littered every surface. The place smelled of cheap beer and old cigarettes, burn holes dotting the ragged couch. The walls and ceiling were stained piss yellow from years of smokers residing in the apartment and lack of care on the landlord's part. I could understand why he didn't bother, though.

I was too stressed out to try and play mediator, so I made an effort to sneak back to my bedroom unnoticed, hoping it would fizzle out rather than escalate. I didn't make it far before a resounding slap stopped me in my tracks. When Wade got physical, I got involved.

"You stupid bitch!" He was shouting at her, my ears suddenly tuned in to every word.

My body went rigid and I abandoned my bag in the middle of the floor as I launched myself at my step-father, throwing him back away from my mother before he could raise his hand to her again.

"Keep your hands off of her!" I shouted at him, stepping back to place myself between them.

"Ty!" Lily pleaded with me, her hand gentle on my arm as she tried to move me aside. "It's oka-"

"Shut up!" Wade yelled, prying himself from the wall and pointing an aggravated finger over my shoulder at his wife, who clamped her mouth shut at the command.

"It's not okay!" In what universe could that possibly be okay?  
"You don't fucking touch her!" I shouted back, diverting his attention to me. If he wanted a fight, I'd give him one.

Bloodshot eyes rounded on me, he stank of booze. He hated me with a burning passion. Sometimes I wondered why he still let me in the house, he despised me so. I think it was because of my mother, because without me she'd be worth even less to him. Maybe in some unseen, twisted, way he cared enough about her to keep her happy. When he was sober it was a little more believable, but when he was like that… there was no love there.

"You keep out of this, boy. I've had enough of your mouth." That finger shifted over into my face. It was lingering there, dangling in front of me like bait on a hook. Taunting my rage. A battle of good versus evil ensued. Walk away and avoid making a bad situation worse, or satisfy my desire for revenge.

Evil won.

I reached up and grabbed that finger, snapping it like a stick. The crack was sickening, yet sadistically satisfying, and I could hear my mother gasp from behind me - "Ty!" - as Wade howled with pain, withdrawing his broken finger. If he wanted to smack around my mother, he was going to start losing fingers.

Remember when I said I happened to act without thinking? Yeah, that was one of those times. With his good hand, Wade backhanded me across my temple. My head spun and I stumbled sideways, momentarily stunned.

"You little shit, I'll kill you where you stand!" Wade stepped toward me, his hand raised. Lily lunged in front of him, grabbing onto his arm to keep him from striking me again.

"Wade, don't! Please. Ty didn't mean it!" She begged. That made me even more pissed begging, then the bargaining, then the way she would dismiss me and my actions as rash, unimportant. Maybe they were rash, but they were deserved.

"The hell I didn't! You deserve more than a broken finger. I should break your neck, you filthy piece of shit!" Words spewed from my mouth before I could filter them. I could see the fearful look of desperation on my mom's face as she spun to look at me, silently begging me to stop and back down. I was tired of letting Wade win. She always let him win and I was the dog that had to run cowering to go lick my wounds.

"He's just upset-" My mom continued to try and field my anger, hoping that Wade would take it that I wasn't in my right mind and let it go. _I_ was in my right mind, it was the two of them that weren't and somehow that made me the antagonist. Maybe I was making the matter worse by fighting back, but somebody had to. Lily wouldn't, she never did. She let him beat on her then tried to make better whatever it was _she_ had done to make him so upset. I couldn't stand it. She had her flaws, absolutely, but most of them were Wade's fault and, even so, that was no reason for the abuse she took - that she subject me to as well any time I tried to intervene.

"You have no right to touch her!" I was fired up at that point, ready to make Wade my punching bag so I could take out every bit of my anger and despair over Meghan, and my mother.

"No right," he scoffed like I made a joke, "She's my wife. This is my apartment. _You _live under _my _roof. That gives me every right."

I bristled. "You don't pay the bills. You don't work. You don't do anything but drink and gamble away her hard-earned paycheck and sit here like you're the king of some castle when you're nothing but a waste of space and fresh air."

"I am the king of this castle!" His voice boomed as he came toward me again. Instinctively, I stepped back to avoid another blow, but then stopped when I realized what I was doing. I was done retreating. "And you will do whatever the fuck I tell you to do!"

"Yeah, screw you, Wade. You might have my mother groveling at your feet, but I won't. You don't have control over me and that just pisses you off royally, doesn't it?" Of course it did. He could make my mother do whatever he pleased with a little sweet talking, pretending to be the loving husband she somehow thought he was, right before he turned around and beat her into submission.

My eyes turned from Wade to my mother, who looked so torn seeing her boys going at it, except _I _was her boy, Wade was just the first man she latched onto after my dad left.  
"Why do you let him treat us like this?" I snapped at her, using the word "us" because no matter how many men she went through, or how many places we moved, it was me who was going to be the only constant in her life. I was going to be the one she could count on to always be there. And yet, somehow, I became second chair to Wade, who consistently and repeatedly let her down.

She stumbled over her words, whether it was the alcohol or because she wasn't sure how to answer, I couldn't tell, but probably some of both. "It was my fault, Ty. I-I was home late and-"

I shook my head in disbelief. "No. No. Stop trying to defend him! None of this is your fault. He shouldn't be hitting you, no matter what it is you may have done. This is so wrong, mom. How can you not see that?!" Maybe it was me. Maybe I was missing something, but I really thought it was my mom who was somehow blind when it came to Wade. He took her in when my dad left and we didn't have a leg to stand on, living in a motel night by night after she lost her job because she became so depressed she couldn't drag herself out of bed. Wade saved her, in her eyes. He gave her a place to stay and a purpose - to serve him. I was merely the baggage she dragged along with her. Back then I was too young to do anything but keep her alive by making sure she ate and bathed. Now I was old enough to do something else about it. The problem was, she didn't seem to trust me enough to let me.

"If you don't like it then get out, you ungrateful shit. You had nothing before I came along." Wade was back at it again, hailing himself praises he didn't deserve.

I looked from Wade to my mother, waiting for her to stand up for me, to say something in my favor. But she lowered her eyes when we made contact.  
"Fine. I'm gone. I'll be at Jason's if you care." I spoke to her, only to her before storming to my room and grabbing my duffel bag to throw in some clothes. When I came out of my room, Lily was trying to tend to Wade's broken finger, saying they probably needed to go to the hospital to get it reset. He argued, of course, because hospitals asked questions and sent bills, very high bills.

I threw a nasty glare at them, Wade returning it.

Lily followed his stare, whipping around to look at me. The reality of me leaving must have hit her when she saw my bag and she rushed over as I yanked the door open.  
"Ty! Ty, wait! Don't go!" She ran into the end table as I stepped outside, sending the lamp toppling over in her haste to get to me before the door closed. I slammed it shut before she could make it.


	5. A Walk to Remember (Pt 4)

It wasn't until I got to Jason's development and stood in front of his darkened house that I remembered he wasn't home. He'd gone to Banff, Alberta for the week.  
As I stood there in the cul-de-sac, staring at the house, I seriously contemplated entering through the basement window around back. It was usually unlocked for when Jason would sneak out to meet us. He wouldn't care that I crashed at his place. I wouldn't even leave a trace of me behind for his parents to notice anyone had been there. The only thing that stopped me was the neighborhood watch. It was perhaps the only area in town that had one, or more like people who cared enough about their neighbors to watch their backs. There were probably a dozen pairs of eyes on me now, watching, waiting to see my next move. For sure if I stepped onto the property the block would be swarming with cops. I had about enough confrontation for one night to put that theory to the test.

Scanning my eyes over the neat cookie-cutter homes, I turned around and went back the way I came, now a lonely nomad. Wade didn't exactly kick me out, I made that decision on my own, but there was no way I was going back that night. It would only prove the point that I really didn't have anywhere else to go. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction and have to see that smug smirk on his face when I came wandering back in. It would make my mom happy, I was sure, but I was feeling spiteful and would let her spend the night worrying about me and if I was ever going to come back. Maybe if I stayed away for a couple of nights she'd look at things with a fresh perspective.

Who was I kidding. She'd worry until I came home then we'd be right back where we left off. A bitter part of me wanted to just take off. Leave her to finish ruining her life with Wade and start somewhere new. Somewhere I could be a different person - anyone I wanted to be. I could invent a whole new me.

It sounded great in my head and when the guys and I tossed those ideas around for kicks. But the truth of the matter was, I was stuck. As badly as I wanted to take my mom and run, I knew she wouldn't leave Wade so willingly and I wouldn't leave her to be alone with him. Not for long, anyway. That night was just to hold onto my pride. I'd go back tomorrow once things, hopefully, cooled down and we'd carry on. It was a sad reality and I sighed and shook my head as I wound my way down the quiet suburban streets back toward the center of town.

I took my time, allowing my thoughts to swallow me up as I gazed at the pristine picture of the Canadian dream surrounding me. White picket fences and mini vans parked in driveways of family homes. There were children still outside in someone's backyard playing. Their high pitched squeals of laughter carried down the street. A dog barked, another answered.

I always wanted a dog. They were far better company than any human could ever be and were the most honest and innocent of creatures out there. I always promised myself the first thing I would do when I was able was get a pet - one from a shelter that needed a good home and someone to love that would love them in return. I awaited the day I would walk through the door and have someone there that would be glad to see me. I longed for a life with those comforts, always would. Back then it didn't seem possible for me - a pipe dream.

I really didn't know where I was going. At some point I just walked for the purpose of moving forward, though felt stagnant even when my legs grew weary. The hours ticked by, the sky grew darker with a new moon and the world became quiet. I somehow managed to drift away from civilization, only the distant sound of cars providing some indication of my location.

If I lived in shantytown, this was the rural equivalent. I lived on the outskirts of the city, this was the outskirts of that. It was almost desolate. If I didn't have a large set of gonads, I would turn and head back toward the comfort of population. I was poised and ready to come face to face with a shotgun if I took one wrong step.

But even this part of town was hunkered down for the night. There were no lights almost at all except for an occasional lamp glowing from behind the curtain of a window. Street lights were blown out (or shot out) and never replaced, almost as if the area was no longer part of any utility map.

I wondered what time it was and how long I'd been walking. Maybe I would just walk until morning, my mind seemed capable of it even if my feet were starting to ache. When I got lost in the oblivion I didn't even notice the physical discomfort.

But then I saw it. My reprieve. I paused to look at the vacant lot, overgrown with brush and looked as if it were used as a dump site. In the far corner, balanced precariously in a half-dead oak tree was a fort.

I took a look around, weighing my options. Bunk down in the tree fort or head back to town which would inevitably end with me back at my own doorstep, or sleeping outside of it. I'd rather take my chances in the wilderness.

I was careful as I picked my way through the lot, stepping over old tires and skirting around oil drums. My toe kicked a bottle, it clinked loudly against a rock and a froze, hoping I didn't sound any kind of alarm. When I heard nothing, I continued to the tree, stood at the base of it and looked up at the floor over my head. It wasn't high up, but I questioned the stability of the hand and foot holds bolted to the trunk of the tree that served as a ladder to the gaping entrance about eight feet up.

I hooked the handles of my duffel over my shoulders and gave the wood a pull. It stuck fast so I braced myself and began to climb. It was much easier than I thought it would be with the weight of my bag pulling me down.

When I made it to the entrance, my next worry was what possibly awaited me inside. Being from an urban area, I had many encounters with homeless and squatters. It occurred to me that there was a possibility this tree house was already claimed by someone. It was too nice of a building to be left alone. Anyone who slept in an alley would give their right arm for a shelter like that. I just hoped they were willing to share for one night. I had snacks to barter with if they wanted compensation, but if I was really lucky, it would be as empty as the lot in which it stood.

It wasn't. I learned this the hard way. The very, very hard way.

As soon as I hoisted myself up, got my knees beneath me on solid ground, and shrugged off my bag, something blunt collided with the back of my shoulders.

"Argh!" I grunted as I was splayed on my stomach, dazed.

"Don't move!" Someone yelled a me, poking me in the back with their weapon.

I remained flat on my front, lifting my arms in surrender. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone was up here."

"What do you want?" It occurred to me then that the voice was female, but they were making an effort to deepen it to make it seem less so. Smart, but ineffective. Still, female or not, they had the upper hand and I was compelled to oblige whatever they requested lest I wanted to go home with more bruises than I left

"I just needed a place to crash for the night. I'm not here to hurt you, I swear. You can check my bag for weapons if you want." Slowly, carefully, I reached over to push the bag back toward her, aware of the object she held digging harder into my spine as I did.

She didn't move. Maybe debating my sincerity, and my true intentions. I didn't think it was any weapon I could hide in a bag she was wary of.

"Look, I'll go if you want me to. Like I said, I thought the place was empty." I really hadn't meant to trespass on someone else's turf. They were there first, fair was fair.

"Who are you?"

"Ty."

"Ty?" The femininity came back to her voice as she said my name. I knew that voice.

"Meghan?" I was stunned and it appeared so was she as she retracted the two-by-four she hit me with and allowed me to turn over to look at her. Of what I anticipated finding, she was not on that list.  
"What are you doing here?"

She lifted the wood, poking it toward me. "No, you don't get to ask that. I was here first. What are _you_ doing here? Little far from home, aren't you?"

"Aren't _you_?" I actually never thought about where she lived. I was more concerned with _whom _she lived.

"No," was her simple answer.

An unsettling thought struck me. "You don't… live here, do you?"

"No," was again her answer, her voice softer than before. "Sometimes I- No, you answer me first. Why are you out here in the middle of the night?"

I eyed the two-by-four. "Now that we've established I'm not the enemy, do you mind? This feels like an interrogation." I wasn't sure it wasn't, but she lowered the wood anyway, leaning it up against the wall where she'd laid out a sleeping bag. I sat up, brushing dust from my hands and clothes.  
"I just needed to get out for a while. Couldn't stand to be home another night," I answered as she fell back onto her makeshift bed and leaned over to switch on a camp light. I squinted against the sudden brightness, allowing my eyes to adjust before taking a look around. I was surprised by what I saw.

Meghan might not live in the tree fort, but she certainly spent a lot of time there.  
"Nice digs," I commented, noticing the large cooler and various storage containers that lined the walls. I returned my eyes to her, a smile slowly curving my lip at her bed head. Apparently, she'd been sleeping before I burglarized her hideout.  
"What?" I asked. She was staring me down rather intensely.  
"Don't be a smartass."  
"I wasn't! It's cool. Like a secret clubhouse." I really wasn't making fun of her. I was just surprised, was all. I wasn't exactly sure what to make of the situation.  
"_Secret_, is how I want it to stay." She was serious and I wasn't in the position to argue.  
I shrugged. "Okay. Not that it's very well hidden. I saw it from the road." In the dark. But I had no want or reason to go telling people Meghan Donovan liked to camp out in a rotting tree house. If anyone else were to figure that out, it wouldn't be because of me. Either way, my agreement seemed to satisfy her and we were back to our original interrogation.  
"How did you end up here? I thought you lived across town."  
I didn't ask how she knew that when I hadn't known where she lived, but just shrugged again. "I went to my friend Jason's, but when I remembered he wasn't home I just… walked. Didn't know where I was and figured it'd be fun to camp out for a night." I kicked off my shoes. My feet were glad for the break.  
"What happened at home?" She asked, making a face of disapproval at my dirty socks with the hole worn through the toe.  
"Ah… not until you tell me what _you're_ doing out here." That was what I really wanted to know. I stumbled upon the fort by complete coincidence. My excuse was a valid one. I was still waiting for Meghan to explain her side of things.

Her eyes darted to mine briefly before looking away again. "Same as you. I had to get away for a while."  
"Looks like you have to get away a lot," I guessed, referring to her rations. She was quiet a moment, her lips parting as if about to answer before closing again and nodding instead.  
"Family drama?"  
"Sort of. You?"  
I paused before repeating her answer. "Sort of." There was a great deal of unspoken truth hidden between those words, from both of us. Very similar truths that were fighting to be revealed despite attempts to hold them back.

We were both quiet a moment, unsure of how to carry on the conversation without creating tension. Finally, I asked, "So… you haven't pushed me down the hole yet. Does that mean you'll let me stay?"  
I could see a soft smile flicker over her face. "Sure. Just don't get any ideas. I'm not one of those girls you and your friends chase around."  
I chuckled, "No." She wasn't. Most of them wouldn't even set foot in that lot, let alone climb a tree. "But the chase is all part of the game."  
"And what game would that be?"  
"The game of love, of course."  
I could see in her face she thought I was full of it. "Love. Really? Have you ever even been in love?"

That question threw me, made me stop and consider it a moment. Had I ever truly been in love? I've had infatuations, most guys my age have. But I don't think I've ever even toed what real love was. "No."  
"Sounds more like lust to me, then."  
"Okay, maybe it is just lust. But at our age there's no such thing as real love. It's all about playing the field. You can't tell me you haven't gone through guys left and right, sorting out the haves from the have-nots." This was the time we learned about ourselves as individuals and what we sought in a partner. The only way to do that was to date a bunch of people and weed out the bad ones.

"I have no interest in 'playing the field'. Besides, when you're a have-not people don't usually bother to notice you." I could feel the weight behind those words, the loneliness that was tucked between them. And I began to feel guilty. I was one of those people that never noticed Meghan before even though we saw each other every day.  
"I noticed you," I countered, hoping to ignore that fact. "You're just so introverted it's hard to tell if you even want to be noticed or just left alone." That was also true. She didn't do anything that screamed for attention and with so many others that did, it was just easier to focus on them.

She sighed. "I know. I'm just not very good at making friends, or being sociable. Sometimes I prefer to be left alone but… when I see other people I want that too. It's just not that easy for me to approach people like it is you."

"I don't think it's because you lack social skill. When we talk I'm always surprised by your sarcasm." I never thought that quiet girl could possess so much snark. "I think it's because you're just afraid of letting people get to know you - the real you."

She smiled, almost amused. "You know, I think you let people think you're a lazy, unmotivated, delinquent because you're afraid of the exact same thing. I guess that means we're a lot more alike on the inside than how we appear on the outside."

I could agree with that, except, "Well, I am a rather lazy when it comes to school. Feels like a waste to me." The smile faded from her lips and I immediately wished I could take back what I said to the girl who was stressing over the possibility of repeating a year and not graduating. I could care less, and she couldn't care more. "F-for me. I don't even plan on graduating so… I don't see the point of continuing to bother." I cringed internally, feeling like I just made my comment worse.

"Getting that diploma is my way out of here," she said quietly. "My grades aren't the greatest and a university won't look twice at me if I flunk out. I just… I can't be here anymore. The thought of having to wait another year just…" She took a slow breath and looked toward her lap.

"Well, I figured I'd take a lesson from Ted Turner and Bill Gates and just invest in something big. You don't need college to be successful or achieve something great." I grinned proudly. That was always my argument when I got lectures about the importance of education.

"Except both of those guys finished high school, " she argued.

I had one for that too.  
"Quentin Tarantino didn't." She rolled her eyes at my waiting comeback.  
"Maybe I'll be his protege one day."  
"Good luck with that."  
"Then you can be my assistant with that nifty college degree of yours." I smiled warmly, hoping to get hers to return as well. It did.  
"Or maybe I'll take pity on a down-on-his-luck actor and hire you to take out my trash and clean my toilets." She grinned and I laughed.  
"We'll see which of us makes it there first then decide."  
"May the best woman win." She reached out to shake on it. I grasped her soft hand and held it, ignoring the implication, mostly because I hoped she would be the one to make it. I could see how badly she wanted to get away from this town and make something of herself. I did too, but like I said, I didn't have quite that much faith in myself.


	6. A Walk to Remember (Pt 5)

Surprisingly, sleeping in that old tree fort wasn't the most uncomfortable of experiences. I certainly dealt with worse. It was possible the company had something to do with that, despite being the reason I was unable to fall into a sound sleep.

Meghan graciously shared a spare blanket that I threw down beneath me so I didn't have to sleep directly on the old wood. A few splinters wouldn't bother me, but I would gladly avoid them if I could.

It was oddly quiet in this section of town. I was used to falling asleep to people shouting and quite often the headboard of the neighboring bedroom banging against the wall. That was when I pulled out my headphones and drowned it out with some trashy garage metal that I couldn't understand but was oddly drawn to. The tree house was like a vacuum, sucking all the sounds of nature into a silent vortex. It was almost like I was in a completely different world, far away from my problems. I could see why Meghan spent the time she did up there.

I drifted off easily, my head resting on my duffel, but made it to the brink of REM before feeling the tug of my consciousness back into the waking world. It made my body heavy, but the odd sounds that were coming from somewhere in the fort had me jolting awake as if I had one of those falling dreams.

My eyes snapped open at the sound of Meghan whimpering. I turned to see her jerking in her sleep. I began to sit up, watching her closely. For a long time all I could do was stare, disturbed by how similar she looked to my mother from all those nights I was drawn to her bedside. I couldn't see her face in the dark, but from the noises coming from her, I'd bet her face was streaked with tears too. It was painful to hear and I knew whatever Meghan was dreaming about was just a painful to see.

"Meghan." I called her name gently, trying to coax her awake.  
"Hey, wake up." I scooted across the floor to her side. I didn't want to touch her. I learned it was never a wise idea to try to shake a dreaming person awake, especially if they were having a nightmare. Unfortunately, she wasn't hearing me and I couldn't in good conscience allow her to continue suffering, so I reached out to her.  
"Meghan." I placed my hand on her upper arm, giving it a small squeeze to urge her awake. "Come on, wake up."

As I expected, she awoke violently, in full defense mode and ready to fend me off. Before I got a blow to my face, I jerked back quickly.  
"It's okay! It's me. Ty." I held my hands in front of me, ready to defend myself if need be.  
She was breathing heavily as she sat up, letting out an involuntary groan of pain and holding her hand against her side.  
"Ty? What the hell? Didn't anyone ever tell you to leave sleeping dogs lie?" She sniffed and was wiping at her face as I reached for the camp light again to flick it on. She removed her hand from her side when I did, sitting up taller and turning her face away from the light.

"I decided I'd rather take my chances with getting bit. That seemed like a pretty wicked dream. Are you okay?" I sat back to give her some space.  
"I'm fine. It was just a dream." Clearing her throat, she turned to face me again, but avoided direct eye contact.  
"What was it about?"  
"Why, you wanna analyze it or something?" Pushing the blanket from her legs she shifted over to get her water bottle next to her pillow, a motion I noticed she made more complex than it needed to be by moving her whole body, rather than just leaning over to reach for it.  
"No, but it seemed pretty bad. You were crying out loud and twitching. Scared the shit outta me. I thought someone else was up here."  
"Oh. I'm sorry. I don't really remember what it was about, though." She sipped at her water then took her time replacing the cap. I didn't buy it but let it go and redirected the topic.  
"What about your side?"  
"Huh?" She looked up a little startled.  
I gestured. "Your side. It looked like you hurt yourself when you sat up." I began to lean forward, reaching for her shirt to see, but she was quick to push my hand away.  
"Nothing. It's just from sleeping on this hard floor."  
That was a believable excuse, but _I_ didn't believe it. I remained hunched forward, watching her intently.  
"Why are you lying to me?" I knew this type of lie when I heard it because I listened to it almost my entire life.  
She became affronted. "I'm not. What are you talking about?"  
"You're lying to me. I can see it in your face." I didn't think she spoke a word of truth to me since we met. I probably wouldn't have believed her even if she did.  
"And how would you know that? Do you have some kind of lie detecting superpowers?" Her brow creased into a frown.  
"No, but I've listened to my mom lie through her teeth long enough to know it when I hear it."  
I could see her whole body tense as she readied to defend herself. I knew then that it was just a matter of time before I was no longer welcome in her hideout. "Yeah? And what would I have to lie about?" She challenged me, trying to call my bluff. Except I wasn't bluffing and she was about to find that out.

"You leave your hair down and wear long sleeves to cover the bruises on your body. You don't like being touched, or sudden movement, because you associate it with being hit. And you miss days of school, or come in late, so the more visible bruises have time to fade or you can use enough make up to cover them up." I rattled off every clue she left me to piece together, watching closely for her reaction. She fought to hold onto her scowl that deepened every moment she tried to reject the sinking reality that her secret was no longer a secret. Not to me.

"You may have the rest of the world fooled. But you can't fool me. I know what you're hiding better than you may think." I spoke gently to her, not wanting to get her back up any higher than it already was. I could see her chest heaving deeper than before as she struggled to maintain control of herself.  
After a long pause, during which she must have decided that she'd run out of excuses, or the energy to fabricate more, because she didn't contest my assumption, she spoke quietly, "And how is that?"  
"It happens to my mother too." I often attribute the abuse in my house to my mother because she takes the brunt of it, but the truth was she wasn't the only one who suffered, nor was Wade the only one who delivered the blows. As much as I fought for my mother, defended her, and protected her, there were times when I wondered why I did it when I'd be on the receiving end of her abuse. She wouldn't fight back when Wade hit her, so she turned around and took that retaliation out on me. I let her. I don't know why, but I've come to believe it was because I'd rather she hit me than Wade hit her.  
"And to me," I admitted, something I didn't even do with my closest friends, though I'm positive they knew. Friends that close read between the lines and catch those small things you give away, even when you don't realize you do it. The same thing happened between Meghan and me. I read between those lines and drew conclusions from the pieces I gathered.

Meghan looked at me then. Really looked at me, and the walls came tumbling down as her eyes welled with fresh tears. "When did you figure it out?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly.  
"That day in the hallway when I reached out to touch your sweater."  
Her face contorted just before she lowered it, bringing her hands up to hide it from me.  
I hate seeing girls cry. That probably stemmed from my mother too, but it was really hard for me to endure and even worse when it was Meghan. Her tears were a mixture of shame, relief, and even some fear. She probably felt stupid now for throwing out all of the fibs she did when I never believed them but accepted them for her sake. I guess in some way that made me a liar, too.  
"Hey. You don't need to pretend anymore. It's why you're out here, isn't it? To get away from it." It was why I was out there too. We were two peas in a pod that night, running away to simpler times.

Meghan didn't reply, but her silence was enough. She lowered her hands from her face while her head remained bowed toward her lap. I could see her lips part as she took a slow breath.

"Who is it?" I asked gently, not really anticipating a detailed answer but hoping for something to indicate her trust of me. She had yet to throw me out despite how vulnerable I must have made her feel by effectively stripping away each protective layer of her disguise.

But by her response I could tell she wasn't happy about my invasion of her personal life.  
"You seem to have it all figured out; why don't you tell me." Her voice was low, strained.

I took a moment to think over my options carefully before ultimately deciding on ignorance. "I don't know."  
"Now who's lying." She lifted her red-rimmed eyes to give me a hard look, not in the mood for any more games. Neither was I. It was time for the truth, bitter truth to be revealed.  
"I'm not lying." Not really. "I just heard some rumors, so who knows if they're actually true."  
"I know. You think I don't hear them, too? I may be invisible but I'm not deaf." There was anger in her voice then, though I had the feeling it wasn't entirely directed at me.  
"Okay, so set the record straight." I leaned back to sit up taller. "Tell me the real story."

She studied me closely in the dim light for a long time. I waited patiently for her to find the words, and more importantly the courage to confess her nightmares. Finally, she did.

"It started after my dad went to prison…" She began from the very beginning, filling in every detail of the so-called rumor Tommy shared not long ago. Some of the details were flawed in his version, as was to be expected, but for the most part what I heard wasn't very far off from the truth, or at least the version of it Meghan told me. I couldn't be entirely sure she wasn't still doctoring details to feel like she had some control. Plus, once you started fabricating those lies, it was hard to stop. Even so, I listened with every bit of compassion and understanding a friend could offer.

It was her mother's boyfriend that dished out the abuse. Her story was uncannily similar to my own with her mother trying to justify his anger and provide excuses. The difference came, sickeningly, in our gender roles. Meghan's abuse wasn't just physical. It started out that way, but within the last year it became sexual. That was the part of her story that brought a whole new level of discomfort and shame into the fort. I suddenly felt like I was invading her personal space and regretted all the times I tried to reach for her. If I thought opening up about her abuse would be hard, I greatly underestimated the gravity of the situation she was in. I also underestimated her trust in me. While I hoped she would merely admit to it, I was surprised when she went on to share how ashamed and humiliated and violated she felt any time she looked in the mirror. She didn't even hesitate as she did. I think it was because if she stopped she wouldn't have been able to continue. I wouldn't have blamed her, even when she started to tell me I thought about telling her to stop if she wanted. But I think she would have if she did. She realized she needed to tell someone. If not anyone who had the power, or obligation, to stop it for fear of retaliation, then just someone who would finally know the truth. Someone she no longer had to hide from or lie to. Even just having that one person made you feel less alone in your hell.

I didn't know what to do, or what to say. I wanted to pull her in and hold her close, to make her feel protected, but I wasn't sure she would accept my touch. She had yet to.

"How often do you come out here?" That seemed like a safe question in this safe house.

"I don't know. Quite a bit when it gets… it gets unbearable. They get upset when I don't show up for a few days but I just need a break. I need time for my mind to… regroup."

I didn't like the way she used that word 'regroup,' like her mind got derailed and she needed to get it back on track before it crashed and burned.

"How long have you been here this time?"

"Just tonight so far. It was pretty bad when I got home." Her voice once again fell as her eyes lowered to her lap where she was once again wringing her hands as I saw her do in the principal's office.

I almost didn't ask, I felt like I was bombarding her with questions, but we made it this far and part of me wanted to know. "What happened tonight?"

Meghan once again lapsed into a contemplative silence. My eyes lowered from her face to her hands as their motion became rougher. She clenched her jaw and swallowed before she let out a soft gasp as she took a breath to speak. "He came into my room and said if I wanted to keep living there that I needed to start contributing to the rent. I said I wasn't old enough to get a job yet. He said he had a solution to that. That he… he had a friend who was willing to… to help. That he would pay me, in cash, and if I was willing, I could start tonight.

"I knew what he meant. I called for my mom - I wanted to know if she knew about this… job - but she didn't come. He told me she approved, but I knew that was a lie. I ran, but I think that was a part of the deal. The thrill of the chase."

I shuddered, my stomach dropping when I recalled our earlier conversation when I joked about the so called "chase." But I didn't mean it in the context Meghan was describing. Not at all. I felt almost sick listening to her story.

Meghan squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "I don't… remember a lot. I think the shock suppressed the memory. I just remember him laughing and wishing I'd pass out from the pain. But I wouldn't let him touch me. I fought. I'm pretty sure I broke his nose. There was blood everywhere. I just… got out of the house and came here."

Relaxing her hands she lifted her head to fixate me with the most devastating look I had ever, and will ever see. It is forever burned in my memory. "I'm so scared, Ty." She strangled a sob and my heart broke for her.

I wasn't sure if she'd accept my touch. I didn't want to scare her again, but I also didn't want to leave her crying there alone feeling like she was a spectacle. So I moved slowly, allowing her to see each of my movements as I made them to move over onto her bed, turning to sit beside her.

She grew quiet, watching me from the corner of her eye. I could feel her body tense as our arms brushed, skin on skin. I slid my arm along hers until my hand touched her forearm where I let it rest lightly. She stared at our connection and swallowed hard, but didn't move away.

"You're safe here with me, okay?" I assured her quietly, running my thumb along her tender skin.

"I just want to stay here. I'm afraid to go home." Her eyelids slid closed and I could see the circles beneath her eyes, the lines on her face that revealed utter exhaustion.

"So stay. I'll stay with you. We'll be like the Boxcar Children… in a tree house." I offered a gentle smile, joking, but not really. It sounded outlandish and impractical, but not entirely impossible. If that fort was where Meghan felt safest, then why not.

"What?" She looked at me a little surprised. "We can't."

"Why not? You said you've spent days at a time out here before." I gestured to the storage tubs. "And it looks to me like you stocked provisions. With a few fortifications and repairs, it could work."

"Do you hear yourself? You're actually talking about _living_ in a _tree house_." But even I could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.

"You're the one who wants to stay here."

"Well, yeah, but I… I didn't mean for real. I just meant I wish I could stay here. I can't. Neither can you."

"Why not?"

She stuttered over her excuse. "B-because. How would we live?"

"Better than we do now."

I studied her. "That's not what you're worried about though, is it? You're afraid that if you're gone for too long they'll come looking for you and when they find you it's not going to end well."

"Maybe. I just don't want anyone to know about this place. I want to keep it like it is."

Despite how great I thought my idea was, I didn't push Meghan to accept it. Instead, I just nodded. "Okay. But you shouldn't come here alone. I'll give you my phone number and any time you need to get away, I'll come stay with you. That is, if you want me to." I looked up into her grey eyes that turned on me as Meghan's lips curved into a faint smile.

"I do."


	7. A Walk to Remember (Pt 6)

Getting back to sleep after a nightmare like Meghan experienced was no easy task. She stalled as long as possible until I began to slip sideways when I could no longer keep my eyes open or my head up, let alone continue an intelligent conversation. After I caught myself from face-planting for the third time, I finally put my foot down, for the sake of both our sanity.

"Meghan." She stopped talking to look at me. "You need to get some sleep."  
"No, I'm fine. A few hours is all I need."  
"Okay, I need to get some sleep. I've been walking half the night already and we've got school in the morning." I shifted back over onto my own sleeping bag.  
Meghan raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you give a flying anything about school?"  
A fair point. "I don't. But I thought you did."

Turning around to face her, I could see the truth in her eyes. She was afraid to go back to sleep; afraid of what was waiting for her when she did. "We can't stay awake forever," I reasoned.  
"I know, believe me I've tried." She ran a hand through her disheveled hair.  
I gave her a look of sympathy before offering a deal. "What if I stay up until you fall asleep?"  
She smiled softly. "And how are you going to do that? You were the poster boy for narcolepsy a moment ago."  
"Ah," I raised a finger. "Because I wasn't trying very hard to keep myself awake. Contrary to popular opinion, I do have the ability to accomplish things when I put my mind to them." It was really a matter of whether I cared to put the effort in or if it benefited me in any way. In this case, I cared that Meghan had a good night's sleep since it was obvious they were few and far between.  
She didn't disagree. "I believe you. I also believe that you're wasting your potential."  
"Yeah, you and every other authority figure I've ever encountered." They all said the same thing: I was a smart kid with a bright future if I just tried a little bit harder, blah, blah, blah. I stopped listening after a while.

"Well, they're right," Meghan argued. "That bad boy act of yours might be attractive to some girls but it won't get you far in life. You can pretend all you want that you don't care about what happens to you after high school, but I know you do. You just don't believe you have the capability of reaching those goals."

She wasn't completely wrong, but I wasn't going to tell her that. I didn't have aspirations of being a doctor or businessman; or successful at all really. My only goal in life was not to turn out like the men that ran my childhood. I didn't want to become a deadbeat drunk that abused any poor woman that was naïve enough to believe there was good in me. I wasn't even sure I wanted a family, you know, the whole white picket fence deal. A dog, sure, absolutely, but maybe that was it. I'd start with a dog and see how that went. It scared me that I was hardwired to turn into my father. That no matter what I did or who I tried to be, I would inevitably meet that dark side. I didn't want to subject a family to that if it was my fate.

"Maybe you're right: that bad boy thing is an act. But it's the only thing that gives me the strength to deal with the shit in my life. If I let myself truly care about my future, I'd probably end up self-destructing when I realize I'll never reach it." I found it was better not to have any kind of expectations, especially high ones. I aimed low so I could be content if I landed just a step above.  
"I don't believe that, Ty. See, it's the fact that you are so self-aware that makes the possibilities endless for you." Meghan was ready to argue with me until my self-deprecation left her dry, but I wasn't willing to get that far. Not so late at night, anyway.  
"You believe what you want, just as long as one of those things is that I can stay awake until you fall asleep. Now, come on, lights out."

Meghan was staring at me in hard disbelief and continued to do so as I flicked off the camp light and left her no choice but to slide back beneath her sleeping bag and make another attempt at getting some rest.

As I lay there in the dark I didn't even have to try to keep myself entertained to stay awake, what Meghan said did that for me. Over and over people told me I was selling myself short, giving up without really giving myself the chance. And every time I tuned them out, until then. Meghan was the first person who made me take the time to really think about the things I wanted out of life and if I really did have the ability to get those things.

The next day dawned with an earthquake. At least, that's what it felt and sounded like.  
"Holy shit, what is that?!" I shot upright, disoriented by my surroundings in a blind panic as the tree fort rumbled all around me.  
Meghan giggled from the corner, already awake. "Chill out, it's just a train."

Apparently, I missed that little detail the night before when I came across the lot. I walked the tracks every day but never through that particular part of town.

"It sounds like the tree is going to come down around us." I rubbed my eyes hard then ran my hands through my spiked bed head 'do.  
"A few more years and it probably will. Here." She threw a Pop Tart into my lap, the rumbling quieting down as the train passed.  
"Thanks. What time is it?" It was light enough to see without the use of the camp light, but still looked early judging from the golden glow lighting the small space.  
"Almost six." Meghan dug through her backpack.  
I watched her. "Seriously? Why are you so awake?"  
"I need to do a few things before school."  
I pulled apart the foil wrapper of my hearty breakfast. "Like?"  
"I'm a girl. It takes us twice as long to get ready for anything than it does you." She was working on stuffing her rolled sleeping bag back into its casing. "I bet you roll out of bed a whole ten minutes before you need to leave, pull on whatever clothes you find on the floor that don't smell too bad, brush your teeth then head out the door."  
"Wrong." I gestured with my Pop Tart after taking a bite. "I wake up a whole _twenty_ minutes before I have to leave, pull on whatever clothes look halfway decent, brush my teeth, _comb my hair_, then spend those last ten minutes trying to convince my mom to get out of bed and eat something that doesn't contain fermented grains."  
Meghan's movements slowed, her eyes lingering on the bag. "Sorry."  
I didn't intend to make her feel bad. I meant it as a joke despite being the truth. "No it's okay. Most of the time I end up sleeping in and it turns into ten minutes anyway. I've lost count of how many times I went to school in my pajamas. The days I even bothered to show up, that is." Sometimes I just didn't care. No one else in my house seemed to even know what day of the week it was to ask why I wasn't in school and if they did it was because my presence had become bothersome.

"Your mom's a drinker?" Her fingers fiddled with the drawstring. I stopped eating. It seemed we were back to those uncomfortable heavy topics.  
"Yeah, mostly nights and weekends. During the day when she's between jobs." Thankfully, that wasn't at the moment. She actually had two jobs then. One waitressing and the other cleaning the home of our elderly neighbor. It was when she was around Wade that she drank, or when he went off to the track, or didn't come home some nights. She worried about him. God knows why, but she did. She'd get so worried she drove herself to drink until she passed out to wake up to him there. She probably had no idea that I was the one who put her to bed those nights. That I was the one who propped her head up on a pillow, pulled off her shoes, and tucked a blanket around her while leaving a glass of water and aspirin on her nightstand for when she woke up with no desire or ability to fetch it herself.  
"Mine too. She never used to be, but the whole thing with my dad going to jail was the last straw for her." Pulling the string tight, Meghan pushed the pack aside before sitting back on her heels. "You know, I used to hate my dad so much for leaving us. I used to blame him for all that happened since he left… but he didn't make my mom drink or hook up with this guy. He wouldn't let…" she stopped, almost choking on her words. I looked away, letting her take the moment she needed to hold herself together. "He wouldn't let these things happen to us. It was all her choice - her choice to do nothing." Meghan's quiet tone grew harsher, angrier. I could see the resentment in her eyes as she glared at the floor.

"You know, you can always do something," I advised in a soft voice, aware of her reason for not doing so already. If she tried and nothing came of it, or authorities took too long to do anything, she would be placing herself in a potentially dangerous situation. I didn't know what business her step-father was into, but what he tried to make Meghan do led me to think it certainly wasn't legal or ethical. It was wrong on so many levels and anyone who dabbled in such things knew how to keep people quiet.

"Oh, you mean like you?" It was difficult to tell if her sarcasm was in jest or not. For once I couldn't tell and because it was such a sensitive subject I found it hard to find humor in it. I didn't put on one of my smirks and come back with a witty comment, nor did I get upset and snap at her.

"Maybe if I had control over the outcome, I would." Like if I knew I wouldn't be taken from my mother and she wouldn't resent me for getting Wade arrested and sent to jail. If I could just get him out of the picture and convince my mother she was strong enough to make it on her own and didn't need Wade and that I would always be there to keep her on the straight and narrow and us together, then I'd do something in a heartbeat. But the moment those charges are filed it's a slippery slope and there's no telling what's waiting at the bottom.

Meghan looked at me, but I wasn't sure she really saw me as she looked like she had fallen deep into her mind, absently responding, "Yeah, me too."

In that moment I was not aware of the idea that sparked in her brain, or would evolve into a plan that strengthened over time. A plan that I would not be let in on until it was already too late to manipulate the outcome.


	8. A Walk to Remember (Pt 7)

Because I was already up, I decided not to heed expectation and go back to sleep for another couple of hours before I really did have to get up and head to school. I brought clothes to change into but I wasn't sure how comfortable Meghan was with me yet to see me in my skivvies, so I didn't do more than put on fresh socks to avoid the awkward potential of that scenario.

We packed everything away then descended the fort into the lot, Meghan pausing to reach up and yank a piece of particle board over the entrance. To keep any critters out, she explained, though I wondered how well it would do to keep any wandering people out.

The world was almost as quiet as it had been just hours before when I walked through that area in the dead of night. Without really thinking, I began to walk beside her, following her to wherever she needed to go to do whatever she needed to do before school.

Finally, she seemed to realize this and stopped. "What are you doing?"  
I shrugged. "Following your lead."  
"I have to go home to get ready for school."  
"Okay, I'll go with you."  
This idea seemed to unsettle her as her eyes widened slightly. "You can't."  
"I'm not going to watch you change or anything. I'll wait outside if you want. I just figured we're going to the same place and there's no sense of me walking back to my house when I can just change at school." Plus, I wanted to delay going back to the apartment for as long as possible. I was still testing my theory to see just how much my mom didn't worry herself sick over me like she did Wade. I was all set to walk in nonchalantly my usual time later this afternoon. But if I was still feeling spiteful, maybe I'd even draw it out longer – make a real experiment out of it. I figured I'd see how my day went first.

"Okay, well, I'll see you there. I'm not sure how long I'll be." It wasn't hard to tell she just didn't want me to come with her.  
I turned my head slightly as I looked at her with some suspicion. "If you're worried about me seeing where you live-" Really, not much could be worse than my place.  
"No, it's not that," she cut me off, shaking her head as she lowered it, kicking at a loose stone. "I just… I don't want him to know about you."  
I was confused. "Your stepdad? Why not? We're just friends, right? You're not allowed to have friends?" I used the word 'friends' tentatively. I liked Meghan as a friend, but after learning of the struggles she endured on a daily basis I found myself feeling protective of her in a more intimate way.  
A crease developed in Meghan's brow. "I just never brought anyone home before. If he's there I'm not sure how he'll react. He gets easily defensive."  
"Say I'm a pacifist." My tone was not friendly despite the joke. Even if I had a thing or two I wanted to say to the man, I didn't want to cause any trouble for Meghan's sake.  
"I just don't want you to get hurt." Her grey eyes settled on mine. "Please, Ty."  
I was tempted to argue, but I felt that pushing myself on her wouldn't be a wise decision. "Okay." If she didn't want me walking with her then I wouldn't. With her, that is. Call me stubborn, later I'd say just plain stupid, but I wasn't about to head to school when I didn't know for sure if Meghan was even going to keep her word and meet me there. If she ended up playing hooky then I sure as hell was going to tag along. She was the only reason I had any interest in school anymore and why I bothered to show up as much as I did that week even if I did skip out early a few days.

Meghan took off in the opposite direction from where I came from the night before, so I started to retrace my steps to make a show of parting ways. Everything looked different in the light, but easier to see where my path could again intersect hers. I hung back a while before turning down an alley that would bring me onto the street she'd gone down, coming out a decent block behind her. Luckily, there wasn't much further to go because if she were to turn around at any point on the street my only quick hiding spot would be between houses, and in this neighborhood I would almost certainly prefer her to catch me being a stalker.

I maintained my distance as Meghan turned down a walkway leading to a rundown doublewide. It fit right in with the neighborhood, except for the car parked outside of it. It was an old Caddy, probably seventies or so and, to be honest, looked very much like a Pimpmobile - shiny, sleek, black with tinted windows, a vinyl top, and whitewall tires. The car didn't at all match the house it accompanied. I watched as Meghan paused to look at it and seemed to hesitate before ascending the steps into the house.  
_That must be his._ I realized, as I walked up for a closer look.

I remained on the public sidewalk, very aware of what trespassing onto someone's property would get me in those parts, but lingered between Meghan's and the neighboring house, trying to be discreet while also getting a fair layout of the property. Deciding I should probably take a walk around the block as not to look any more suspicious, I walked in front of the house, ready to cross the street when I heard the creak of a screen door. I made every effort not to turn and look, acting nonchalant and as if I was simply just passing by.

"Where do you think you're going in such a hurry?" The voice carried right to me, making me pause and look back. The guy looked almost like a greaser from The Outsiders about forty years into the future. An unlit cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth and he held the lighter in his hand.  
Putting on my best confused face I glanced around as if wondering if he was talking to someone else. "Me?" I played dumb.  
"Don't play games with me, kid. I saw you lurking out here." He looked about ready to grab me and drag me into the house for an interrogation. I wasn't completely confident that he wouldn't yet.  
Quick thinker like I was, I nodded toward his Caddy. "I was just admiring your car. What is that, '73?"  
His eyes didn't leave mine and if his expression could harden any more than it already was it did. It felt like he was looking right through me. I nearly glanced down to check that I was still a solid mass. "Beat it. Next time I catch you outside my house you'll be admiring the barrel of my rifle." It didn't sound like an empty threat.  
I swallowed my smartass response about the make of weapon, throwing a last glance toward the car then the house. "Sure. Sorry." I took a slow step back, waiting to see if he was actually going to let me leave or wait until my back was turned before sticking a bullet in me. He seemed like the type of scum that didn't look a man in the face as he killed him.

"And you stay away from my girl, you hear?"  
That last threat threw me. I wasn't sure if I hid my surprise well enough as I locked my jaw to keep from blurting out things I knew would get me into trouble. How he knew of my association with Meghan I didn't know and didn't find it an appropriate time to ask. So, I said nothing, merely turned around and forced one foot before the other, stiffly carrying myself away from the house and the poor excuse for a man that stood and watched me go to ensure I did.

The guilt settled in as soon as I could no longer feel those cold eyes against my skull. Meghan told me not to come with her, warned me about her step father and yet I didn't listen. Now I was even more afraid of what would happen to her when he went back into the house. I felt sick all over again and tempted to go back, just to make sure. But I worried that my return would agitate the problem. If I played the act of a clueless kid properly, with any luck, we'd be given a free pass. I had to hope we'd be granted such a mercy as I walked across town to school without stopping to wait even a safe distance for Meghan to catch up. I thought it was best not to play with fire that time. That was the first time I ever prayed to a higher being. I just wanted Meghan to show up at school that day in one piece; to know that she wasn't punished for my stupidity.

Just after the morning bell rang, I lingered in the empty halls to wait for Meghan to show up until a security guard came through to do a tardy sweep and I was ushered to my class. I never bothered to pay attention during my classes before, but that day I wouldn't have been able to even if I tried. My mind wandered to Meghan, tormenting me with what ifs and worry. I couldn't even talk to my friends without zoning out and losing track of the conversation.

"What is with you, man?" Tommy asked after our second class together.  
"Huh?" It took a moment for me to register what he said.  
"You've been totally out of it all morning. I mean, more so than usual."  
I ran a hand through my hair, forcing my mind to properly focus. "I ran into Meghan's stepdad this morning."  
Tommy's eyes widened. "Dude, are you kidding me? How?"  
I hesitated, not wanting to sound like a creep, but wasn't sure how else to spin it. "I followed her home this morning and-"  
"Wait… what do you mean you followed her home _this morning_? What were you doing last night?" His eyes widened as he drew his own suggestive conclusion. "Did you-?" Before he could finish asking what I knew he was thinking I shook my head.  
"No, it wasn't like that." I sighed. "It's a long story that you don't need to know. The point is, I was just waiting outside when he came out guns blazing – almost literally."  
Tommy rolled his eyes. "I told you, man. I told you to be careful before inviting yourself over. The guy's bad news."  
"Yeah, I get it. Honestly, I didn't think he'd even be there." Assuming he was what Tommy told me he was, I figured he'd be working overnight in the city and wouldn't be home until well after Meghan and I would have been in school. From the way Meghan hesitated upon seeing his car in the driveway, she must have thought the same.  
"So what happened?" Tom pressed.  
I shook my head, recalling the unsettling conversation we had. "He warned me not to come around again, and to stay away from Meghan." I wondered how he even knew we'd been together. Aside from seeing each other in school, last night was the first time we came across each other and it was the dead of night.

I narrowed my eyes. "He called her his 'girl,' like she was his property or something." That still ignited my anger.  
"So is she working for him or something?"  
"No. No, she said he…" I stopped, unsure if I would be overstepping to tell Tommy what she confided in me the night before. I didn't want to lose that trust I finally started to gain. "No, she isn't." I concluded. "But I think he wants her to."  
Tommy nodded absently. "I can see that."  
The look I gave him was not friendly and he immediately held his hands defensively in front of him. "I'm just saying. She's kinda hot and has that air of mystery about her. Guys eat up that stuff."  
I wasn't about to humor him by agreeing when I found the thought insulting, but I didn't want to start an argument either so I just let it go. "Anyway, I think I screwed up. She was supposed to meet me before first period but I haven't seen her yet."  
Tommy simply shrugged and offered a rational explanation, one I also considered but didn't really believe. "Maybe she decided to skip."  
"Maybe. But I don't think so." With all the trouble she was having making up her assignments and catching up as not to be held back, I wasn't convinced she would just skip for the hell of it. From what I gathered last night that wasn't the type of girl she was.

However, that was the type of guy I was and when Meghan didn't show up at our usual meeting place between classes, I lived up to my reputation and snuck out the back door.


	9. A Walk to Remember (Pt 8)

I knew better than to find my way back to Meghan's house again, even if every part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind just to make sure she was okay. On the other hand, I feared that my reappearance would only make matters worse. So I dragged myself back home, deciding to face Wade's wrath for breaking his finger. More so I wanted to see if I'd been missed, or merely forgotten.

When I entered the apartment the place was dark save for the light seeping in through the curtained windows. The television was on at a low volume which was oddly the only noise. I paused inside the door, looking down the dark hall. "Hello?"

"Ty?" It was my mother's groggy voice from the sofa. She sat up, pushing the blanket from her body, her hair disheveled from sleep and I could still see the tears that wet her eyes. "Oh, Ty!" She cried, getting up and rushing over to me, pulling me tightly into her arms. "I was so worried." She seemed sincerely relieved to see me, but that didn't make me feel at all guilty for causing her to worry.

"Where's Wade?" I asked flatly, not returning her embrace. She smelled of booze. She awkwardly let go, leaving her hands on my arms as she blinked slowly.  
"Sleeping. It's been a rough night."  
I scoffed. "I'm sure you took good care of his majesty," I snapped rudely, causing her to lower her hands and rub them against her thighs – a nervous habit.  
"Ty, please. You broke the man's finger." She said it as if I should show more compassion.  
"He's got nine more." I was startled by the sudden sting of her hand on my cheek. When I realized what she just did, I glared at her, my jaw popping. "He deserves to lose the use of something more vital." I would not apologize for my comment.  
"Stop it. You don't realize how much he's done for us. And to treat him that way…"  
My temper flared and my voice rose. "Are you kidding me?! He was hitting you and you were defending him! How stupid can you be?!" I spat without thinking, then immediately regretted it. I closed my mouth at her hurt expression, checking my outrage and calming down. "I'm sorry." I didn't like talking to her like that, like how Wade spoke to her, but there were times when I was just so frustrated and tired of her defending him that I lost control.

"No, you're right. I have been stupid." She looked me in the eye with her shame.  
"Mom." I didn't want to hear it – whatever it was she was going to say to make me feel guilty even though I really just wanted to be angry at her for a while, though knew I couldn't.  
"I haven't been fair to you," she reached out to me and I flinched, subconsciously expecting another slap. She seemed startled, stopping the movement and curling her fingers as she moved her hand slowly away. She looked hurt and despite knowing I had no reason to, I felt bad for recoiling from her touch. Then all I could think about was Meghan and how she reacted the exact same way. How her eyes widened so fearfully when I moved too quickly toward her and how her body tensed when our arms merely brushed. God I hoped she was okay.

Lily recovered quickly, trying to pass over my reaction. "I was thinking, maybe we can take one of our trips together." I didn't miss how low her voice became, as if she only wanted the conversation to be heard between us.  
"Like to the zoo?" I asked, trying not to sound bored. When I was younger the zoo was my favorite place. I would beg my mom to take me every day. She'd be passed out on her bed after a night of binging and there I'd be, trying to nudge her awake. Though I was left disappointed and clutching my stuffed tiger the majority of the time, once a month she'd keep her promise and we'd go. I never wanted to come home because for those few hours I was the happiest of my life. Now I was old enough to know better and a trip to the zoo only brought back the memory of how young and naïve I'd been. If she thought that was going to erase her mistakes up to now, I was too old to be fooled like that.

The hopeful look on her face became more serious as she continued to look at me, not breaking eye contact as she often did when she was trying to lie to me. "No. Not to the zoo, Ty." Her head shook in a slow, meaningful way. She was studying me, hoping I would understand what she was trying to say before she had to say it out loud. I did. And, like the zoo, I no longer rushed out the door to go wait in the car.  
"And how far would we get this time before we end up right back here?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. This was the third time since she married Wade that she threatened to leave him, promised me we would go far away and start a new life together. The last time it was Toronto. We made it as far as Calgary. The time before that we never made it to the front door. I suppose I should give her credit for progress, but I didn't believe she would ever truly leave him. He was like a drug to her – one she'd overdose on, promise she'd quit, but wouldn't be able to deny when in front of her.

"I'm serious this time. When you left last night… Not knowing when, or if, you'd come back… Ty, you are the most important thing in my life." She held her arm against her side, rubbing her fingers together as if trying to prevent herself from reaching out again. I didn't mention her lack of concern over the fact that it was a school day and I wasn't there.  
"Two seconds ago you hit me for not appreciating Wade enough, and now you're saying you're ready to walk out on him?" I called bullshit and my tone said as much. I wanted to believe her, I truly did. If I knew without a doubt that she really meant it this time, I'd be grabbing her hand and we'd be out the door before he could even wake up from his nap and ask for a beer. I knew better. And by now so should she. "Don't do that, Mom."  
"What? I mean it, Ty. I-" she seemed ready to try and convince me, but I stopped her before she could waste her breath and what small hope I had left.  
"No. You don't." She really was scared I wouldn't come back this time and was willing to say anything to prevent a next time when I truly wouldn't. It was pathetic but being that she was my mom I just felt sad for her. "And please don't lie to me to try to earn my forgiveness. You won't get it."  
I turned to go back to my room, but she was quick to catch my arm and stop me. "Wait, please." I pulled it from her grasp as I turned back, actually feeling my heart wrench when I saw her shrink away as if she were expecting me to strike her as Wade did. God, what kind of sick twisted world did I live in where this was an expected reaction and no one knew the touch of a gentle hand.  
"Sit with me. We can watch a movie. I think there's some pizza leftover." Her eyes were pleading, desperate for some kind of affection. As much as I was so upset with her a lot of the time for putting me second tier, I was not immune to those needs. I craved those bonding moments with my mother like any child, no matter how bitter I could be.  
I sighed, caving. "Let me just put this away." I shrugged off my duffel bag and carried it into my bedroom, closing my eyes as the image of her smile froze in my mind.

"Lily." Wade's gruff voice carried from their bedroom as I walked by.  
"Try again." I replied, not bothering to stop and see what he wanted. I didn't care. I walked into my room to drop my bag.  
"Lily!" He yelled. I heard the creak of the bed springs. A moment later she appeared to see what he needed. I closed my eyes to keep from rolling them.  
"I need more aspirin. And a cold drink." There was a clink of glass as something dropped into a waste basket.  
"You shouldn't be taking those pills with alcohol," Lily advised gently while I tried not to snort too loudly from across the hall. She was one to talk.  
"Did I ask for your opinion? Just do as you're told," he snapped and once again I bristled at the way he spoke to her like she was his personal slave.  
I looked up when she emerged from the room to fulfill Wade's request, a frown darkening my brow. "No. Don't you go waiting on him like he's an invalid." I made her stop and stepped into the hall, yelling at Wade. "I broke your finger, not your legs. Get your lazy ass up and get your own beer. She's not your servant."  
"It's fine, Ty. I don't mind."  
"You see? She wants to do it. If she didn't, she doesn't have to."  
"Bullshit," I spat. My mother was so brainwashed she only wanted to do things for Wade because she believed the moment he no longer had use of her he'd leave her with nothing and nowhere to go. It was the same cycle over and over again.  
I touched my mom's arm, leading her a few steps down the hall so Wade couldn't hear us. "If you want to prove to me how serious you are about cutting ties with that scumbag, then you need to show me. Stop letting him bully you around. See him for the trash he really is and stand up for yourself." I didn't even care if she stood up for me because I didn't need her to. It would be nice, but I was perfectly capable of it on my own. She needed to work on her first.

At first she looked uncertain, her green eyes that matched mine darting over my shoulder toward the bedroom. When she looked back at me I could see the subtle change in them as she nodded.  
It was that look alone that revealed just how far we would have gotten had I believed her when she suggested we take a trip. She wasn't ready and I knew it, but there was still a chance that she could be. "It won't do you any good lying in bed all day," she called to him, looking at me for approval. "Get dressed and I'll make you something to eat."  
I shot her a sideways glance but didn't say anything else. Baby steps.

Despite his displeasure, Wade crawled out of bed and made an appearance, not that he put much effort into his. His broken finger was braced to the one beside it with masking tape. When he saw my eyes drop to it he fixed me with a look that promised retaliation. The phone rang as he emerged in the kitchen, Lily moving to answer it, leaving us to have a silent standoff.  
"Don't you have something to say to me, kid?" He slid into a chair at the table, cocking his head expectantly.  
I knew what he was after. "I'm not sorry for what I did." I said coolly, crossing my arms to my chest.  
"No. But Lily sure will be if you don't tell me what I want to hear."  
Blood cooled in my veins. Wade and I stared each other down as we had a separate, unspoken, conversation beneath the verbal one.  
"Is that a threat?" I could see Wade was baiting me, trying to get a rise out of me, perhaps even physical retaliation for what he was saying. He knew precisely where my boiling point sat and how to exploit it. I've gotten in trouble on several occasions for my inability to keep my temper in check. The worst part was, I knew better than to take the bait but just couldn't help it. It was like my consciousness let go of the wheel and the automatic steering took over but instead of safely coming to a stop, malfunctioned and ran headlong into another car. I could see it coming but reacted too slow. As much as I gained satisfaction for causing Wade any kind of harm, I knew it upset my mom so I tried not to let my instincts get the better of me if for no other reason than her. I wasn't afraid of him trying to charge me with assault because I had so much more on him whatever they did to me would be worth what they slapped him with. Even so, I knew what something like that would do to Lily and just did my best to keep myself in check.

Wade and I were still having a stare down when Lily came back from her phone call, announcing that she was going in to cover the late shift at the diner. I was relieved. It got her out of the house, away from Wade, and put more money in her pocket. But I was too preoccupied silently pummeling Wade into a pulp to answer right away.  
He was the first to acknowledge her comment. "I'll take you after we eat."  
I twitched, not liking his misogynistic tone. Sometimes I really thought he was trapped with a 1950's mentality. "I'll take you now if you need to go." I shot him a look of disgust.  
"No, no. There's plenty of time for us to sit and eat together." Lily sounded almost chipper at the thought, as if a family dinner was all they needed to make things right as rain. To this day I would still get whiplash trying to follow her thought processes.  
Lily was pulling open the fridge and cabinets, searching for any kind of groceries we happened to have to turn into some kind of meal. "Sit down, Ty. I'll get you boys something to snack on in the mean time."  
I remained standing where I was.  
"Come on, Ty. Have a seat. Let's talk as men do while the women do their duty." Wade gestured to the chair I was gripping tightly, so easily faking chumminess. He spanked my mother on the ass when she walked by. I tried not to vomit on the table.  
"I have homework to do." Surely I did, but I wasn't actually going to do it. I just didn't want to sit and pretend like not a minute before Wade and I were ready to go rounds with each other. I couldn't turn my switch like he could and from the smirk on his face he seemed to find satisfaction in that as I vacated the kitchen despite my mom's protests. She wanted me to stay and talk and I would have, had the rat not crawled out of his hole; more so had she not let him into her nest.


End file.
